#woe. dad smite be upon ye

[norcruel]

M. | v!hanta asks all smite, " you… actually look like that? " / @destruxxon.

the doctor says he should stop smoking so much. down to one lung and one stomach, he doesn't have too much left to lose. he'll do it, but he's not going cold turkey. all smite is tucked just outside his fighting ring. the cold is bitter and sticks to the bones, but it's welcome. he'll take it over the deafening cheers and blasting music inside. cigarette is pinched between index and middle finger. before him, a pickpocket. not a bad one, but a caught one.

he shifts beneath his costume, built for a much bigger man. the larger-than-life spikes on his shoulders seem too bulky for his small frame. the man before this pickpocket is a far cry from the surreal posture all smite is known to hold himself with.

smoke is blown out from the corner of his lips. he doesn't seem mad — rather, assessing. " 'fraid so. tell anyone and i'll know it was you. " another inhale, and a skeletal finger points to the boy. " i'll be taking my wallet back, my keys, and— " a pat around his pockets— " my knife. you got a good technique, kid. just not good enough. the pull on the right side of my body gave you away. "

[ask-steven-stevenson]

[Woe! A pissed off key upon ye! They got outta Eldi’s grasp bc I say so /hj]

Hi dad. You still got that possum?

[They look just about ready to smite god right now. I don’t recommend pissing them off more.] -🔑

“Oh. Yeah. I grabbed it the second you got picked up.”

[woe! Possum be upon ye Key.]